Show Me Your Scars and I'll Show You Mine
by a-little-short-of-a-fairytale
Summary: Dan has been bullied his entire life for his sexuality. He's broken but alive, even though he wishes he wasn't. As time goes on, Dan notices that one boy in the group of bullies doesn't seem to be there by choice. Is he a victim too? The boy continues to beat him when encouraged by his friends, but Dan sees something more. TW - Self Harm, Eating Disorders. (I'm bad at summaries)


"What do you think you're doin' mate?!" jeered a tall boy with mousey brown hair.  
Dan froze. This was not the day for this to happen. Of all fucking days, they chose this one… He had been bullied for so long that he'd lost count of the years he'd spent wishing his life away. He couldn't even pinpoint the exact year it had all begun. All he knew, that was ever since he had started school at 4 years old, he had feared each day, and hated every waking minute of his existence. Not only did the taunting and violence affect him at school, but it also emotionally tore him down, until he was barely able to function day to day without injuring himself in some way, or fantasising 'falling' from a tall bridge or building, feeling the life drain out of him until he was finally at peace. He had never considered himself suicidal, but had a train hit him, he'd not have cared in the least. In fact, he'd have considered it a blessing.

There was a whole gang of them that targeted Dan; the ringleader, Hamish, was from a posh, snobby family that looked down upon anyone from around Dan's area of town, though with the exception of Liam, his right hand man. Dan was pretty sure Liam had only gained this title due to the fact that Hamish was slightly unnerved by him, though he'd never so much as imply this. Tom was from Hamish's way, and spoke only in perfectly pronounced English, whereas Phil, originally from the Midlands, had a strong Northern accent. Phil was from the richest family in town. Probably the richest in the whole county. His mother worked for a top New York magazine, whereas his father owned the computing system used by security all over the world, including that used in Buckingham Palace and High Security prisons. Dan knew that this was most likely the only reason Phil was permitted entry to their little posse.

Hamish was tall for his age…probably around 6ft, and had a permanently threatening expression. Dan didn't know whether this was his actual face, or part of an act he put on to intimidate people. He'd always remembered the one time he'd seen Hamish cry. It was in primary school, during the egg and spoon race on Sports Day, when Hamish had caught his foot in a tree root. He had continued to run, determined to win, whereas his foot had not moved. His ankle twisted and snapped. Dan had secretly felt pleased. Even as an 8 year old, Hamish had been a dick.  
Liam was from a pretty rough area, which was mirrored by his appearance. He had a habit of tucking his tracksuit bottoms into his socks, and never let his hair grow further than a spiky stubble. His face always appeared dirty, and he always smelled vaguely of wet dog and drugs.  
Tom was quite an average height, with blonde curls. He always had perfect posture and an accent that would shame the Queen. Dan had always thought Tom was a bit of a Mummy's boy, as he was often reluctant to stray beyond the school rules, though sadly, had never quite felt too guilty about making Dan's life a living Hell.  
Phil on the other hand, was quiet. He barely spoke, and Dan often thought he didn't seem quite connected to the rest of the universe. Sometimes, he would wince when the others were physically violent towards Dan, though he never said anything to stop it. He simply watched, and laughed on cue. He had dark black hair that looked like it could swallow a black hole, his eyes were the deepest blue Dan had ever seen…possibly similar to the depths of an ocean, and his clothes were usually printed with sarcastic slogans that even Dan could not rise to. Compared to Phil, Dan felt inferior. It wasn't the others and their popularity status or reputation that he was envious of. It was the way Phil held himself; the way he always maintained his popularity without being too much of a twat. He seemed sincere. Dan felt quite conflicted about that, but he couldn't deny that Phil never seemed too eager to be around those he called his friends. Dan wondered whether Phil was perhaps frightened of them, and preferred to be on their side rather than against him. Given the opportunity, Dan couldn't deny he wouldn't do the same.

"Come here, fag," hissed Liam. "Get you're fucking gay arse over here." Dan sighed. He wanted to stay as far away as possible from Hamish and the others. He tried to continue walking, pretending he hadn't heard Liam. No such luck.  
"OI FAGGOT."  
Why did the teachers never do anything about it? They surely knew? How could they not when they wandered the halls each day, where these confrontations would often take place.  
He'd had a friend once. Dan laughed to himself at how lame that sounded on reflection, but he had. His name was Aaron. Dan had confided in him that he was gay and that was that. It became the favourite ammunition for the bullies, and they had fucking loved it.  
"What?" Dan asked, rolling his eyes.  
"Don't fucking talk to me like that, you fat twat," Liam jeered. Little did Liam know, Dan had been compulsively starving himself, and forcing himself to throw up after what little food he did eat for months now. He was deathly thin and often nauseous with malnutrition. Although, maybe Liam did know. Maybe he'd sussed it out. But maybe he just didn't care. One thing they didn't know however, was that Dan's arms were covered in deep scars, some purple and raised, others thin red streaks across his otherwise pale skin. Once, he'd slashed across his arm so deep that it hadn't stopped bleeding for half an hour, pulsing out onto the carpet around him in his room. He'd told his parents that he'd fallen from his skateboard when he woke up in the hospital; that he'd stumbled to his room where he had passed out. The nurses and doctors looked at him with suspicion, but said nothing. To him, this was confirmation that nobody cared...

"Wait until after school…" Tom threatened with a smirk. Dan shivered with the coldness of the school halls, as he turned to continue on his way. Big mistake. Apparently, this had been taken as a sign of fear, and was greeted with further teasing.  
Dan continued to walk to his locker, refusing to look back or stop, and give them the satisfaction. He could hear the group of boys laughing at his 'gay walk'. No doubt they'd try and 'beat it out of him', as they called it, later when they pounced on him outside of the school gates.

…

As the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, Dan's form tutor dismissed the class and headed to the staff room, leaving him surrounded by 30 teenagers, all glaring at him, as if they knew something he didn't. Some looked on with pity or sympathy, others glared with hatred and knowing smiles. Clearly, Hamish's gang had made plans that Dan didn't know about. Bile rose in his throat as he thought about the possibility of further bruises. His mother and father were beginning to notice, and Dan couldn't be doing with that. The general message people give to those being bullied is 'tell someone you trust', and first things first, Dan knew this would only worse the bullying. Secondly, he didn't have anyone he trusted enough to tell, other than his parents, and he knew this wasn't an option, as it would hurt them too much to know that they had failed to protect him all of these years.  
Skipping down the stairs two at a time, Dan spotted Hamish and bolted in the opposite direction, towards the male toilets. He locked himself in a cubicle and hoped that should he stay there long enough, the gates would be empty by the time he left.

 _'Just staying late at school'_ he texted his mother. He didn't want her to worry, though he knew she would anyway. She seemed to have noticed that he was becoming more distant recently.  
Dumping his bag on the floor, he sat down on the toilet seat and rested his head in his hands. Dan took deep breaths and tried to steady the oncoming urge to hurt himself. Better that than suicide, he thought. His hands suddenly felt like magnets, being pulled towards the sharpener blade he always kept tucked in the inner pocket of his bag. He sat on his hands. He occupied them with a tangle toy. He placed his earphones in his ears…nothing was working. A scream of frustration threatened to erupt from inside of him, and that's when he knew it was too late. Unzipping the pocket inside his rucksack, he unwrapped the blade that was encased in tissue paper and rolled up his sleeves. Dan gazed intently at the already visible scars lined up, starting at the very top of his wrist, and covering every inch of skin to his elbow. He placed the blade on his arm and sighed. Dizziness swirled around in his head, and his thoughts threatened to drown him. He toyed with the blade for a few moments, before picking it up, tightening his grip between his thumb and index finger, and sliding it softly at first, across his arm. Pain…blood…numbness…relief.

…

As Dan left the school building, completely unnoticed, he felt calm. He always felt calm after cutting himself. It only hurt to begin with, and then the pain subsided, leaving an intense feeling of relief.

"FAGGOT!" Dan heard a voice shout from across the drive. "OI WHERE YOU BEEN?!"  
A slight whimper escaped his mouth, thankfully too quiet for any of the group ahead of him to notice. Dan tried to walk around them, but soon realised that there was no escape…not this time. Liam ran up behind him and clamped a hand over his mouth. Dan tried to elbow him in the stomach like those pictures had shown him online when he had googled defence techniques, but he slipped and almost fell to the floor. Tom punched him hard in the jaw, and Dan continued to squirm in protest. They manoeuvred him slightly until they reached the bushes behind the bus shelter, where Tom continued to punch him, this time harder, but in places that would be less obvious. Then Hamish made an appearance. Dan dreaded this part more than any other. Hamish was far stronger than the others, and one punch to the stomach left him winded, in a collapsed heap on the floor. Dan could taste the metallic taste of blood and knew this one was going to ache for a while.  
Then he heard Phil's soft voice. "Guys, there's a policeman over there. We need to move."  
"I don't see no policeman," Liam snarled at the black haired boy who was standing awkwardly by the bus shelter. "Get the fuck over here and give this fag a kick in the head. I'll hold him down for you!"  
Phil hesitated. "I swear I saw a policeman. Just over there. He might come down here and I'm not getting into trouble for this…faggot." Dan could hear that Phil was reluctant to hurt him, and felt a small stab of sympathy for him. He quickly scolded himself and reminded himself that Phil was just as bad as them for letting it happen.  
"If you don't fucking give him a crack then I'm gonna give it to you instead!" Liam hissed. Hamish nodded in agreement and Dan continued to squirm on the floor as Tom continued to hurt him.  
"If you don't give him a fucking beating, I'll make you stick your dick in him you bastard coward!" shouted Hamish. "Are you a fag too, Philly?!"  
"N-no," whispered Phil, as he took a step closer to Dan. This was a rare sign of weakness, even for Phil, and Dan realised that perhaps he wasn't the only victim in this situation. Phil, however, appeared to regain control of himself and after taking a deep breath, began to forcefully kick him in the shins and neck until Dan began to whimper in pain.  
"Shut the fuck up HOWELL," shouted Phil, "or I'll fucking give you something to scream _about."  
_ "That'a boy!" Liam roared with laughter. "Come on then, lads, lets get ourselves going. This cheeky nandos ain't gonna eat itself."  
The other two cracked up with laughter and began to follow Hamish who led them away from Dan, who was now cowering on the floor in agony. How did things get this way? Why did nobody do anything to help him? Dan lay there for what felt like hours, but was most likely actually about 20 minutes or so, and wondered at what point in his life he accepted that this was what was normal for him…that this was what was going to happen on a regular basis from then on. Without even realising it, Dan had simply accepted that there was nothing he could do. He felt weak, both physically and emotionally, and as he lay there on the grass until the first drop of rain that day, he asked himself why he hadn't yet ended his pathetic excuse of a life.


End file.
